


Under the Moonlight

by joypendants



Series: At the End of the World [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, M/M, its kind of sad but its fine, spin off of a larger fic i'm working on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 00:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13648014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joypendants/pseuds/joypendants
Summary: Following a harrowing day, comfort is offered.Or, the one where everyone is at least a little bit traumatized, but it's okay because they have each other.





	Under the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> What's up! This is a side-fic of a larger one that is currently being written. Think of it kind of as a teaser! This, along with the main fic, is a pet project of mine that I'm working on with the love of my life. Look for the first chapter of the main fic, coming soon to an AO3 near you!

The dark of evening had settled into a quiet calmness, though the tension of the past day still weighed heavily on the minds and bodies of those in the group. The momentary reprise offered by the triumph of finding supplies (a car, abandoned in the forest, stocked with everything they needed for the next while) was fleeting: the trauma experienced was a burden that quickly returned, settling over them all with a silent exhaustion. Loss was not something that ever dissipated quickly, and the day had been one of loss; twenty-four hours seemed far too short a time for all that had happened.

The others either having since dispersed to either take first watch or get some well-deserved rest (though some still lingered about to talk), Ben and Arvo found themselves seated on the weather-worn sofa, hidden in the shadow of the RV. Arvo sat with arms wrapped around his torso, blood spatters still standing out against pale cheeks with a stark contrast, even in the dim light of the evening. The fact that none of it was his should have been comforting, but the idea of it still made Ben’s stomach twist with nausea.

“How are you doing?” Ben asked quietly, turning about to properly face Arvo. Even as the words left his mouth, though, Ben realized that it was a stupid question. After what they’d all been through –– after what Arvo had been through –– could anyone really be okay? (Would any of them ever be truly ‘okay’ again?) “Are you– Are you feeling any better, at least?” Ben shifted a little bit closer, concern evident on scruffy features.

There was a moment of silence, Arvo lightly scratching at his own arm, eyes downcast. Teeth worried his lower lip, delicate features lined with a mixture of tiredness and worry. Exhaustion seemed to weigh heavily on slender shoulders, bowing his frame –– but really, after everything that the poor boy had been through, who could blame him? He had seen more in the past twenty-four hours (Christ, no, it was even less than that) than anyone should have to go through in a lifetime. 

“I am…” There was another hesitation, Arvo’s hands dropping to his lap, where they were then wrung, skeletal fingers twisting around each other before he laced his hands together. “I am...alright,” he finally said, voice quiet. “Am not– Am not hurt?” Knuckles were white, tendons standing out sharply on the back of Arvo’s hands as fingers tensed and relaxed, a shaky breath leaving him. “So… Am alright, yes?” he finished, though there was a certain note of uncertainty to his voice. 

Ben’s heart broke for Arvo. While he had not been there for a majority of the incident, instead having to stay back and keep watch with Doug, he had been filled in by Travis about what he had missed. (It was hell, Travis had told him, literal hell. People are fucked up, man. And from the sound of it, even what Ben had been told didn’t even begin to scratch the surface.) “I’m really sorry you saw all that,” Ben said, studying Arvo’s face as he spoke. God, there was so much blood on Arvo, on his face, on his clothing, still smeared across cracked lenses. Ben tried to not think about who’s it was. “It… It must’ve been terrible.”

Arvo didn’t respond, instead fidgeting more with his hands, staring at them as if that would somehow help block out the horrors that he had seen. Skeletal fingers laced with each other, unlaced, hands wrung as knuckles turned white with stress. Fingers picked at his skin, nails digging in a moment: Arvo seemed to be trying to unconsciously rub something away, though his hands were mostly clean of grime. 

“...Here,” Ben said, “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m–– I’m just gonna get something so we can, uh, clean you up, alright?” He offered a tiny smile, a valiant attempt at being reassuring. That said, Ben got to his feet, placing a hand on Arvo’s arm (a small gesture of comfort) for a brief moment before he headed off to acquire some spare rags and a small bowl of water. 

Returning a few moments later, bowl and rags in tow, Ben knelt before Arvo, offering him another small smile. “Is it alright if I…?” Here, Ben gestured to the items he had set on the ground beside him, glancing at Arvo questioningly. 

Arvo nodded. Carefully wringing out the rag, the sound of water hitting water sounding almost too loud, Ben leaned forward, gently dabbing away the dried blood that still decorated Arvo’s skin with a macabre pattern. Ben’s gaze met Arvo’s piercing blue eyes, swimming behind cracked glass, and for a moment Ben felt his heart stutter, flip, a bird in his chest.

God, Arvo is pretty. 

Mentally shaking himself, Ben shoved the thought down: it wasn’t the time for such ponderings. The day had been horrible, Arvo was obviously upset and at least somewhat traumatized, as one would be, and yet Ben’s mind had wandered. A deep inhale, and then an exhale, and Ben, swallowing hard, forced himself to focus. (Don’t think about his pretty eyes, don’t think about how pretty he is, don’t you fucking dare. Goddamnit, this isn’t the time or place!)

There was a moment of quiet before either of them spoke, Ben unsure of what to say. Arvo still seemed so very tense, so very on edge, and Ben didn’t blame him. All the same, Ben ached to help in some way – but what did one do in this manner of situation? For the life of him, Ben did not know. (Not knowing seemed to be the only constant these days; where would their next meal come from? Why do people do terrible things? Why was there all this senseless death? Why do good people die? No-one knew, and that was just how the world ran.)

“...You’re safe now, you know.” Ben’s voice was quiet, head tilting slightly to the side as he spoke, blue eyes studying Arvo’s face. The rag was still held loosely in Ben’s hand, now stained with dried blood. “It–– It must’ve been horrible, God, I can’t... I can’t even imagine seeing all that, but...” There was a pause as Ben dipped the rag back in the bowl, the water turning a sickly brown-red. “I wo–– We won’t let anything happen to you.” His piece said, Ben oh-so carefully dabbed away the last of the blood on Arvo’s cheek, though his hand lingered a little longer than entirely necessary as he did so.

Arvo’s downcast eyes, peering through cracked glasses, were still fixated on how his hands rested in his lap, fingers laced together. His skin was pale, looking almost ghostly in the dim light, reminiscent of something might see in a book of fairytales. “...Thank you,” Arvo finally said, a ghost of a smile quirking the corners of his mouth. “Is appreciated.” Though his voice was soft and the smile faint, a little of the tension did seem to drain from his form, knuckles no longer the stark, strained white of anxiety. 

Dropping the rag back into the bowl of water, tiny red-stained droplets splashing to the pavement below, Ben got to his feet, sitting back down on the faded sofa with a quiet breath. Shifting closer to Arvo, Ben hesitated only a moment before tentatively putting an arm about Arvo’s shoulders, gently pulling the smaller boy closer to him. Though Ben had not seen the entirety of the day, seeing the aftermath and hearing secondhand accounts of it? Honestly, it was more than enough to paint images that he did not entirely want to see.

Arm securely about Arvo’s shoulders, Ben could feel the tension in the smaller boys frame, an energy humming under pale skin. Arvo was almost rigid, muscles taut as bowstrings, anxiety all but a tangible thing. This was not something that could be easily fixed, as much as Ben might wish it to be otherwise: living nightmares witnessed do not so easily fade from memory. (Lately, though, it seemed that the whole world was a waking night-terror.)

It was impulse that made Ben pull Arvo into a tight embrace, an attempt to at least somewhat soothe the traumas of the day. For a moment, he felt the smaller boy tense up further, delicate frame seemingly a point of pure rigidity, and then, with a quiet sigh, Arvo relaxed, tension leaving him with a whoosh, his arms, in turn, wrapping about Ben.

“I promise,” Ben began, tone soft, “that I’ll–– I’ll do my best to, um, help, okay? I mean, I’ll...I’ll protect you.” His voice was gentle, words almost uncertain, though it carried a note of solemness, a promise. Ben Paul, while not being the smartest or the strongest, did have heart. He might not have the gift of eloquence, of physical durability or strength, but God, he had heart, and he tried his hardest (though, frequently he was reminded that was not always enough). And this –– this quiet proclamation, a quiet promise, made under the night sky with the crescent moon as a witness –– it was something that he fully intended to make good on. A promise is a promise, and that is something binding. 

At these words, a quiet breath of laughter escaped Arvo, and the bespectacled boy pulled a little away from the embrace, a more evident smile adorning tired features. It was a nice change from the haunted look that had settled itself over him throughout the course of this extremely long day –– he looked more like himself now. Exhaustion still draped itself about his narrow form like an unwanted blanket, weighing him down, but his smile, faint as it may be–– In the darkness (both metaphorical and literal), it seemed bright as the sun.

“Thank you, Benny,” Arvo said, smile still evident in his voice, arms still loosely about Ben’s form. “Am alright for...now, yes?” His tone was lighter than it had been for the majority of the evening, since the duo had been reunited, and the shift brought some semblance of relief to Ben. Though this was almost certainly not the last that they would see of that darkness that had touched Arvo so very deeply, it was a start: maybe, even if just for a little while, maybe things could be alright. 

Tentatively, Ben’s hands were raised from where they had come to rest, calloused palms gently cupping Arvo’s face in his hands. Ben’s heart was beating a mile a minute, a bird fluttering in his chest, feeling as if it might leap out of his ribcage as a knot of nerves settled in his stomach. The moment seemed to stretch on for an eternity, the world becoming nothing but the two of them, the weather-worn sofa, and the moon offering them her silvery light. Ben found himself leaning forward, calloused fingers resting delicately against Arvo’s soft cheek, a certain manner of electricity between them, and––

“Hey, how we doin’ over here?” Travis’ voice cut through the still night air like a gunshot, incomparably loud in comparison to the rather muted tones that the other two had been using. Ben jumped, heart in his throat, eyes going wide as he and Arvo instinctively pulled away from each other, the moment between them, whatever it was, shattered. 

As Ben attempted to recollect himself, heart still pounding a mile a minute, Travis plopped himself down on Arvo’s other side, the sofa groaning in protest. “Feeling any better, Arvo?” Travis asked, throwing an arm about Arvo’s thin shoulders as he spoke. Without waiting for a response, he continued: “Anyway, you look better than you did –– got yourself kinda cleaned up a bit now, huh?” Shifting, throwing his legs over both Ben’s and Arvo’s laps, Travis reached up, ruffling Arvo’s hair. Naturally, this caused Arvo to let out a squeak of protest, batting at Travis’ hands with a ‘Stoo-oo-oop!’ 

Despite the well of disappointment in Ben’s stomach over the shattered moment, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Travis, God, be nice!”

“I am! I am being nice, right, Arvo?” The smile was evident in Travis’ voice, hands flopping from Arvo’s hair to rest across Travis’ stomach. “I’m always nice.”

Even in the dim light, Ben could see Arvo roll his eyes, though a smile was playing about the other boy’s features, a glint of mirth in his eyes. “Yes, yes, always so-oo-oo nice,” he responded, a friendly sort of sarcasm dripping from every word. “Could not ask to be nicer!” 

“See?” Travis said, laughter touching his voice. “This is me bein’ nice!” Pushing himself into a more upright position, arm still draped over the back of the sofa, feet now placed firmly back on the ground, Travis leaned closer to Arvo, grinning as he did so. “A-aa-anyway! Hope I didn’t interrupt too much with you two,” Travis added, impish expression firmly in place. “Seemed like you had something of a moment going on, after all.”

As Travis spoke, Ben felt his face heating up, blush touching freckled cheeks with a dark warmth. “Oh my God, shut up,” he grumbled, praying that the dim light of evening was enough to hide his embarrassment. “It wasn’t––” 

However, even as Ben was beginning to protest (albeit rather weakly), Travis was ignoring him, leaning closer to Arvo, making kissy faces as he did so. “O-oo-ooh, kiss me, Arvo!” Travis said, teasing tone melting into laughter as Arvo placed a hand over Travis’ face, lightly shoving the other boy away. “I am so-oo-oo in love with you!”

“Travis, please, why are like this?!” Arvo raised his voice slightly to be heard over Travis’ muffled teasing, laughter bubbling up from Arvo’s chest as he spoke. The sound, loud and bright, was infectious, and Ben was unable to keep himself from laughing as well. “Stop, is not necessary!” Arvo complained, shoving a bit more at Travis’ face, resulting in Travis somewhat losing his balance, swaying to the side as the push caught him off-guard. 

A surprised ‘shit!’ pulled itself from Travis’ throat as he grabbed at the back of the sofa to keep himself from falling. (Behind Arvo, Ben was cracking up.) “Jesus, are you tryna kill me?” Travis asked, mock hurt dressing freckled features. “And here I thought we had something special!”

Patting Travis’ face, Arvo rolled his eyes, though his smile was still evident. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said as Travis readjusted his position on the sofa, flopping his legs back over the other two boys’ laps. “Am sorry to be breaking your heart like this.”

The easy comfortableness of this was enough to push thoughts of loss and trauma from Ben’s mind as he found himself leaning against Arvo, Travis’ feet firmly back in his lap. (Later, Ben would complain about Travis doing this, but in the moment, it was almost comforting in the way that only familiarity could be.) This, Ben thought, this was what it made surviving worthwhile. Despite everything, despite the horrors witnessed, despite the way in which all hope sometimes seemed lost, despite everything: this was what made it all worthwhile. 

In moments like this one, Ben felt that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that things would work out. A futile hope, perhaps, but in times this dark, isn’t that all they had?

Maybe, even if it was just for a while, everything could be alright.


End file.
